A Long Day
by Goddess of Lies
Summary: When Fenris comes to ask Hawke about his next reading lesson, he instead finds himself with a grumpy, sick rogue and two conveniently missing dwarven housekeepers. Despite his misgivings, he agrees to take care of her for the day. What a mistake. Early Act III, friendmace, post-Bitter Pill. First multi-chapter!


It was a sad day indeed when a man could not get his sleep because a woman kept him awake.

_Well, perhaps not, _the elf countered himself, lazily running a hand up and down the blanket covering his chest as he stared woodenly at the ceiling, _it would be different if she was _here_ and keeping me awake. The problem is that I am alone in this bed, in this home, and I still cannot sleep because of her._

Damn her. Hawke, damn her. She hadn't even _done_ anything out of the ordinary. She was just being Hawke, normal, everyday Hawke, and now he was awake thinking about it.

It had been a simple enough thing. He'd been walking through Hightown, making his way to her home to ask her about their next reading session, what book they'd be reading. Suddenly, as he'd approached her door, a familiar dwarf had stumbled out.

"Magic man!"

Fenris stopped and piqued a brow as Sandal gazed up at him, unnaturally large blue eyes glowing. "Magic man," the dwarf repeated, and Fenris scowled. The nickname had stuck, despite how many times both he and Hawke had told him the elf wasn't a mage. Fenris couldn't begin to imagine what Sandal had used as a basis for the nickname, but it was unappreciated, to say the least.

The warrior drew from his thoughts as Sandal's 'father' followed after him, braided beard bouncing as he tuttled down the steps.

"Ah, Master Fenris."

Fenris's scowl deepened. He knew Hawke didn't treat the dwarves like slaves, and that they didn't call Hawke by anything that suggested she was their master, but Bodahn seemed determined to call all of Hawke's companions by upper-class names.

Isabela had been tickled pink at being called "Mistress", and Merrill had giggled loudly as well. Aveline seemed to ignore it for the most part, on the rare occasions she could stop by. Anders had responded nearly as negatively as Fenris had, though the reasons behind this were unknown to everyone. The only one who had escaped this treatment besides Hawke was Varric, who was referred to simply as "Ser Tethras".

Now Fenris made his displeasure known – once again – by snapping, "Just _Fenris_, if you don't mind."

"Yes, yes," Bodahn agreed off-handedly, as one agrees when they simply want the one they're speaking to to be quiet, "yes, yes. Master Fenris," (Fenris knew he did that on purpose, he just knew it) "I'm afraid the Lady of the house is sick. I and the boy here were just going out to get some chicken broth, so I'm sorry to tell you –"

"Hawke is unwell?" A snarl of something unfriendly had been on the tip of his tongue at being called 'master' again, but at the word 'sick' all pretense left him. "Sick how? Is she alright?" He kept his voice calm but hated the way it sounded strained.

"Oh ho, not to worry, ser," the dwarf chuckled, and Fenris relaxed slightly, "just a bout of the sniffles. A sore throat, I think. Our lady gets sick so rarely, so I'm sure she'll be up and about in no time. You needn't panic about her." Bodahn gave him a knowing smile, and Fenris looked away with a frown and a blush.

"Either way, she doesn't want _any_ visitors. Doesn't want to get anyone sick, you understand. I also think she worries about her appearance." Bodahn tittered softly to himself and added, "Women are the same in all races, I suppose."

"Yes, yes," Fenris agreed off-handedly, as one agrees when they simply want the one they're speaking to to be quiet, "yes, yes. Well, I must talk to Hawke about something very important." The lie rolled so easily off his tongue he wondered if he should feel guilty.

Bodahn's lips turned down a little at the corners. "Well, the lady is sick, ser… surely she doesn't need any more stress…"

"It's absolutely necessary she hears this _now_." If Fenris loomed a little bit or let a growl seep into his voice he would never admit to it. "If you prevent me from going in, I will simply find a way in that will probably distress her more than my news."

Now Bodahn was definitely frowning. "Well…" Then the dwarf's eyes lit up. "Oh, alright. You can take care of her until we return. Orana is off with Merrill somewhere, I'm afraid – elven ladies like to gather together, it seems – so you will have to tend to her until we return. It shan't be too hard, Master Fenris, just fluffing her pillow and making sure she eats – oh, and she hasn't bathed yet, make sure she does that – but yes, yes, we'll be on our way, yes, thank you very much, I feel much better leaving her in your hands, we may even let ourselves have a little off-time, the lady has been insisting, yes."

Fenris tried to blink away the blank film that had covered his eyes and felt a tinge of panic fill him as Bodahn ran off in his strange dwarven way, calling Sandal behind him. The younger dwarf paused for a moment, though, and stared up at Fenris. Suddenly Sandal's eyes became so intelligent Fenris was shocked into a spurt of fear.

"Magic man likes good lady. Sandal thinks good lady like magic man too." The dwarf's voice turned sharp. "Magic man better be nice."

Then he followed after his father.

Feeling strange, Fenris entered the estate, trying to push away Sandal's last words with a tinge of amusement and fear.

He wasn't two steps in the door when a muffled voice called down to him from Hawke's bedroom.

"Bodahn? Did you forget something? The sovereigns are on the table, you silly man!"

Fenris blinked, looking dumbly over to the desk and seeing that the sovereigns were gone, and that in their wake was a piece of paper with something scribbled on it that looked vaguely like 'no visitors'. He unsheathed his sword and set it against the wall, blatantly ignoring the fact he'd set it in the exact spot he and Hawke had shared their kiss.

"Hawke?" he called up instead, and listened intently. There was complete silence for a moment, and then;

"Fenris? Maker's balls, that dwarf didn't put up the sign, did he?" Fenris smiled a little at that, and decided that instead of answering her from here he'd tell her to her face. He began ascending the stairs, unclasping his gauntlets as he went.

He paused as Hawke spoke up again, a little more clearly now that he was closer. "Hey! No, no, no coming up here, I'll get you sick, Fenris!"

The elf rolled his eyes and kept going, replying dryly, "Come now, Hawke, you and I both know I am already a little sick."

"Oh, ha, ha. You're funny, but I'm not referring to your bloody sense of humor." Now he was outside her bedroom door, and he could hear her voice was definitely raspy.

He chided himself that it was inappropriate to think the thoughts he was having about how absolutely tantalizing the roughness of her sick voice was.

"I am coming in, Hawke. I hope you are decent." _No, I don't,_ he thought, and then berated himself again and opened the door.

There was a lump in the center of her bed, under the sheets and the comforter, that was Hawke-shaped. She had evidently buried herself so he couldn't see her.

"Go the hell away," she called raspily from under her shield of blankets, but the threat only further amused him.

Fenris set his gauntlets on her bedside table and cricked his hands into claws, reaching for her comforter slowly and deliberately. "No," he replied, and snatched away her first, thick layer of protection.

Hawke growled rather convincingly, but it wasn't off-putting at all, because now he could see her form very plainly under the sheets. Where before there had been a lump, now there were curves and legs and a head. "I'm warning you, Fenris." She apparently saw him reaching for her sheets, for she tightened them around herself and said, "What if I _am_ indecent?"

This gave Fenris about three seconds of pause.

Then he shrugged and said, "Oh well," before tugging the sheets off.

Hawke was not indecent. She wore a plain violet nightgown that reached to her knees, though with her legs curled up it had slid up to about mid-thigh. Her copper bangs were pinned away from her eyes rather messily, and the rest of her hair was spread out over the bed in a halo.

Fenris forced himself to look at her rather irritated face. Her nose was tinged red, as were her cheeks, and her lips were drawn down in a frown. Other than that, she looked much the same; same amber eyes, same freckles. She looked as if she'd just come inside from a very cold, very windy snowstorm.

"Fenris," she snapped, and tried to jerk the sheets back. She relented though, when he smirked and tightened his hold. "Ugh, you're lucky I'm feeling all wobbly, or you'd be on the floor right now," she growled.

He stubbornly ignored the ideas this comment brought up and forced a piqued eyebrow. "If you weren't feeling wobbly I wouldn't be here at all."

For some reason this made her roll her eyes. "You. You're the only man I know who would respond that way, I swear." Before he could really think about what she'd meant by that, Hawke sat up and crossed her arms. "Alright, then. Why are you here?"

"I…" Now his reason for coming seemed sort of silly, though why he didn't really know. "I have come to… take care of you while Bodahn and Sandal are absent."

Hawke's annoyed face slowly fell into a more confused, vulnerable one, her hard tiger eyes softening into something that reminded him much more of a kitten. "You… came to make sure I was okay?" Fenris swallowed tightly and said nothing, meeting her eyes tentatively. Jaiko's arms slowly uncrossed and her hands came to rest in her lap. She broke eye contact, staring down absently at his chest, and Fenris remained completely still, the sheets still held rather tightly in his hands.

He wasn't sure what they had between the two of them anymore. But this, this fluttery feeling in his stomach and the tension suddenly in his legs, this was part of it. He had told her that she made him happy, that night nearly three years ago. In retrospect, she had made him beyond anything he could have voiced. She had made him more, made him everything, and, for a brief instant, had made him nothing but light. It was both the most brilliant and the most heart-wrenching memory he had.

She had told him, as the light had faded, in this very room, in this very bed, that she thought he was beautiful. He had told her the same in all the languages he knew, and other things, holding her until she fell asleep. And then the memories had swarmed him and left him and he had risen and ran.

Yes, this strange tightness in his chest, like air was trying to burst out, _this_ was what was between them, a tiny piece.

Now he swallowed again and nodded jerkily.

Hawke nodded slowly back, and then looked up at him from under her eyelashes.

Fenris felt his knees threaten to give out and so backed up and away from her, having to struggle a little to stay upright. He released the sheets, letting them fall onto the end of her bed, and turned towards the large window in her room.

He did not so much hear her rise as feel it, feel the air in the room shift, feel her presence coming closer, closer, closer. Hawke moved to just behind his shoulder and stared out the window with him.

They were silent for a moment.

He could hear her heart beating.

He could feel it.

Then Hawke made a deep sound in her throat that sounded faintly like 'hrrrrrkaaa' before letting loose a massive cough. She bent over at the knee and hacked, a hand against her stomach. The comforter she had drawn up around herself fell from her shoulders like a cape.

Fenris spun a quick circle and danced in place as he watched her, feeling incompetent. He watched Hawke fall against her bedpost and choke on nothing until she finally straightened, her eyes watering.

She gave him a hard stare.

"Sorry," he said stupidly.

As Hawke sniffled again and rolled her eyes before turning back to the bed, Fenris pinched the bridge of his nose and suppressed a sigh. It was going to be a long day.


End file.
